


Barbed Wire Fluff

by occasional_boy_reporter



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Blood, Complicated Relationships, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Spanking, Warlord!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:20:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23019949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/occasional_boy_reporter/pseuds/occasional_boy_reporter
Summary: Warlords Shaxx and Zavala share a complicated relationship in a world that demands a tough exterior.
Relationships: Shaxx/Zavala (Destiny)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 48





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's the Warlord AU! Where, basically, everybody's a mean sunovabitch living in Destiny's Dark Age.  
> The rating says graphic violence but it's really just some blood and mean sex (with something beneath.) We call this brand of hard boys being soft...Barbed Wire Fluff. XD  
> Y'all can thank Slashy for requesting this via Patreon.

Breath hitches, throat dancing beneath Shaxx’s lips when they spread to cover ruined flesh. Skin finally breaks beneath his teeth. Not enough for blood to flow. Just enough to make Shaxx’s mouth ache with the ghost of iron. He hunts that tantalizing taste with hard strokes of his tongue and when he sucks harshly, demanding more, Zavala’s pained groan vibrates against Shaxx’s canines.

“Enough.”

It’s a command. But it’s weak enough to ignore.

Shaxx sucks once more for good measure. If there isn’t a shimmering bruise the size of a fist later, he will have hardly done his job. Zavala shudders when Shaxx pulls his mouth away- the cool air no doubt grating against the heated mess of the smaller man’s torn neck. But the warlord doesn’t retreat far. He noses along the valley where strong neck meets smooth skull. And when the tension around blue shoulders begins to ease, Shaxx snaps his hips forward in a sharp reminder of the cock still mercilessly stretching Zavala’s hole.

Held breath explodes against stone. The smaller warlord jolts and tries to stretch away from the penetration. The pain of their minimal preparation is still obvious. Shaxx takes that moment of vulnerability to tug aside already ruined armor and twist a dark nipple locked between his fingers and prolong the gasping, squirming dance of the body pinned between him and the wall.

“Enough!”

The volume is there now but little else of value.

Shaxx hums dismissively and returns to the battleground of fluttering neck muscles and bites as if the warlord in his arms is a particularly tough cut of meat. The reaction is instant but far from satisfying. Even though Zavala grunts and vibrates in pain and rising fury, he keeps the real prize out of reach.

But Shaxx is no stranger to Zavala’s...difficulties.

Zavala gasps when the first strike lands squarely on his ass. If he strains to listen, there’s a hint of what Shaxx wants to hear so he repeats the blow harder. This time, Zavala's gasp is tinted by a hiccup of breath that almost sounds like a sigh.

Shaxx releases the worried and shredded skin between his teeth and straightens to follow this new avenue to victory. He draws his hips back, just enough to see the shine of dark Awoken blood on his cock but not enough to leave the smaller warlord empty, and strikes out again with the flat of his palm.

Zavala is ready for it this time and chokes back his response.

So Shaxx plunges forward instead and grinds the man into the wall with his hips. The noise that emerges is chiefly indignant but a glimmer of relief rises at the end. Already, Awoken skin is dark and mottled in the shape of a broad hand and it creates the perfect target as Shaxx begins to alternate between deep, smothering thrusts and sharp, violent spankings.

Tight grunts melt into open-mouthed pants by the time the Awoken’s aura has gathered into a glowing pool layered atop dark, damaged skin. It isn’t fair that pain looks so beautiful on this man.

Zavala tries to twist, maybe to see when the blows are coming since Shaxx refuses to set a rhythm that can be anticipated. But the larger man thwarts any such plan by palming the back of a sweat-slicked skull and pushing the Awoken’s cheek into the stone wall again. He keeps him there by latching teeth to neck once more, parting tight blue globes, and ploughing ahead with the inhuman strength granted to his frame.

Finally, a moan pierces Shaxx’s brain and Zavala bucks back once, only once, onto pistoning warlord cock.

It is exactly what Shaxx has been waiting for and he doubles his efforts to break the man in his hands.

Zavala will not ask to be fucked. He will not beg to be claimed. But even if Zavala refuses to ask in words, even if he hides behind his steely mask and protests, his body cannot hide what he needs. 

Shaxx could never deny him. He would offer his services in the face of even the most blunt of dismissals and would go his own way when it was all over without ever speaking of what they’ve done. He would play their game and pretend to conquer then put the glitter of bruises and the tang of blood out of his head. 

But once Zavala’s body calls for him, begs for him, in the way words won’t, Shaxx gains some sliver of control over the crush that plagues him like a bone deep illness. Some part of Zavala has entrusted Shaxx with his care. When his fellow warlord surrenders some of that authority that chokes him like a noose, Shaxx makes love to him under the guise of violence and leaves the shape of teeth where his kisses are forbidden.

When they stumble, bodies spent and minds vacant for precious seconds, Zavala rests against Shaxx’s chest until they find their breath. And if Zavala's hand finds Shaxx's, they both pretend it is a physical weakness that lead them to this moment because it is as close as either can come to the truth and survive.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Here's some more messed up Warlord lovin' because Slashseeker always inspires me to make more smut.

There are those who think they understand the bond between Warlords Shaxx and Zavala. The men are rivals for the same territories, sometimes allies but never quite enemies. Each runs their separate course until thrown together by circumstances such as famine, disease, or encroaching claims made by the worst of their kind. One might send Risen reinforcements to aid the other in battle but only if that battle might then spill into adjacent lands. If one were to come across the other caught in a bear trap in the middle of the deep woods separating farmland and training grounds...well, it isn’t a given that the last man standing wouldn’t continue on his way while forming plans on how to integrate the fallen rival's resources.

This, of course, is the perception Shaxx and Zavala have been tediously crafting for decades.

An early lesson of Warlord reign is that anything close to you is fair game for razing or abducting. And though the possibility of Warlord Shaxx carried off on someone’s shoulder might seem quite laughable, it is no less a possibility.

So the Lords of adjoining territory had met all those years ago, discovered a pull toward each other and promptly built an icy wall that could only thaw when one was in desperate need and the other could give the illusion that they were there less to help and more ready to pick up the fallen pieces in case of failure.

It is less clear how that icy wall turned into a jagged fortress as the years marched on. Maybe it was because the thing inside the metaphorical stronghold grew more and more tender with the passage of time as fondness and dependency grew until the only reasonable thing to do was to convince themselves that the tenderness did not exist so that no one else could glimpse it and brandish it as a weapon against either man.

Somehow, they have come to this point.

The Warlord Shaxx rewraps his fingers securely around a blue forearm and twists until bone snaps.

Zavala shouts, jaw locked mid exhale. And then he sighs, as if in relief, when the pain sweeps through him and he stops keening and grinding back against the thick flesh stretching him wide.

Shaxx wants to kiss the back of that bald head. To roll him over and see his face. These are all terrible, terrible ideas. No matter how they shore up the defenses on those secret walls, it always seems there is a convenient window or sliver of a crack through which that tender, beating heart beckons.

Forearm pressed crushingly into the spine below, Warlord Shaxx fucks hard and fast and tells himself he is taking- that there is no giving when they rip each other’s armor like threadbare rags and grapple for dominance.

Each slam of his hips bounces Zavala into the half-frozen earth below. Frosted blades of grass shed their shiny ice coats under assault of each agonized breath that forces its way past Zavala’s stubbornly clenched lips. Dark brows are furrowed so tightly that they form a single line of distress and the veins throb close to the skin of a jumping neck.

‘Just ask!’ Shaxx wants to scream. ‘Ask me for anything!’

Instead, Zavala’s leg bucks and Shaxx fails to act on the warning, fails to bear down harder with his hips when Zavala twists his own to force just enough space that his good arm can lash out bearing a hidden knife. The gash slicing through his forearm hardly bothers Shaxx beyond the vague sting. The following jab proves to be more focussed and the larger man grunts when the blade sinks into his side. In the next moment, their positions are reversed. Shaxx’s broad back thuds against the forest floor and Zavala sits astride his chest, forehead dripping sweat and lip curled in a half snarl as his broken arm swings against Shaxx’s own whole one. It would take nothing to flip the smaller man again but Shaxx is too lost in surprise the moment Zavala squirms to realign them and writhes back to force a slick and meaty cock back inside him.

Warlord Shaxx forgets the act entirely- forgets to fight, forgets to struggle, forgets to hurt, forgets to build, build, build- and instead rips through the stone facade of their indifference and disgust and wraps two great hands around the smaller Warlord’s hips and guides him back and forth for the length of three glorious plunges before Zavala catches on to being aided and not forced.

“What are you doing?” Zavala’s bark might send an opposing Warlord running but it proves to have the opposite effect on Shaxx.

The fearsome Warlord Shaxx, heedless of the knife still lodged in his side, curls up to wrap his arms across a scratched and bruised back and breathes aloud deadly thoughts, “I want you to have me however you desire.”

It is a splendid and terrible thing- the way the younger Warlord’s piercing eyes roll into the back of his head as his pelvis twitches and he chokes on his own tongue while painting Lord Shaxx’s fur-trimmed cape with steaming ropes of seed. Shaxx sighs at the flutter of muscles surrounding his cock and holds tighter to the man arching in his lap as he finds release as well.

Shaxx is contemplating drifting off into the deepest sleep when his head smacks against the ground with violent force. His eyes spring open to meet the fevered glow of shifting cerulean and he watches in horror as tears well along those beautiful lashes.

“Traitor,” Zavala seethes. “Don’t ever seek me in this way again.”

He pulls his knife from Shaxx’s flesh as he lurches to his feet and storms away, broken arm held close.

Bleeding out doesn’t feel half as cold as the knowledge of what Shaxx has ruined in a moment of careless love.


End file.
